


the same unspoken song

by phoenixflight



Category: Ocean's Eleven Trilogy (Movies)
Genre: Background Relationships, Banter, Canon Compliant, Emotional Constipation, Multi, about kids but not kidfic, incidental infidelity, not caper fic but capers happen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-25
Updated: 2019-07-25
Packaged: 2020-07-19 08:20:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19970914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phoenixflight/pseuds/phoenixflight
Summary: “Tess doesn’t want kids,” Danny said, when Rusty picked up the phone."Do you want kids?" Rusty asked, like poking a bruise.~~In which Danny and Rusty talk about things, fail to talk about things, contemplate the future, and have sex, not necessarily in that order.





	the same unspoken song

**Author's Note:**

> So the very last scene of Ocean's 13 caught my attention as I was rewatching it - the dialogue seems out of context and overly-masculine for the duo's level of intimacy. So I ended up writing an entire fic around the theme children and what they represent. Actual children appear only incidentally.  
> A few lines towards the end of the fic are taken from 13.

“Tess doesn’t want kids,” Danny said, when Rusty picked up the phone. 

Rusty blinked twice, made a  _ hang on _ gesture to the woman in pearls he’d been sweet-talking, and said, “And?” 

“She says she likes her career and isn’t interested in the disruption.” 

“You like your career too,” Rusty pointed out, cupping the phone against his ear to hear better over the bustle of the party. 

"Yeah." Danny sounded uncharacteristically at a loss. 

"Do you want kids?" Rusty asked, like poking a bruise. The woman he had been honey trapping made a disgruntled noise and moved off. Rusty barely noticed. 

"Well, I always thought… part of getting married I guess. Having kids."

"Huh." It wasn't the sort of question that men like them had heart-to-hearts about but he'd never once considered Danny with children. 

Then again, until six months ago, he had never imagined Danny married either. 

It turned out that there were bigger problems in Danny's marriage to Tess than the question of kids and Danny went to prison. When he got out, after they’d fallen into bed together in Rusty’s room in LA, after they’d dreamed up the Bellagio heist, Rusty spent one comfortable week thinking that things would go back to normal. That Danny had gotten over his temporary insanity and put the whole marriage-and-kids thing behind him. Rusty didn’t like being wrong.

After everything, when Danny and Tess were settled in New Haven, or at least Tess was settled and Danny was putting on a good performance, it came up during one of their infrequent phone conversations. 

They didn't talk often but if one of them called the other always picked up. That rule was as old as mobile phones. 

Rusty brought it up out of the blue. It was 3 a.m. in France and he'd had a bottle of pinot grigio all to himself, celebrating a too-easy solo job well done. 

"Do you still want kids?" he asked, into a long, mostly comfortable silence. Rusty's head was strange and fuzzy and full of Danny, and it was either that or say "I miss you," which was an off-limits degree of intimacy.

Danny was silent for so long that Rusty wondered if he'd fallen asleep. It was only 10 p.m. in Connecticut but Danny was living the life of a respectable citizen now.

Finally, Danny said, "I don't think it's in the cards for me," which wasn't exactly an answer. 

Rusty ate a handful of M&M's, overwhelmingly sweet after the complex bitterness of the wine. 

“What about you?” Danny asked. “Do you ever think about having a family?”

“No,” Rusty said, without hesitation. “No kid deserves this kind of life.” He was currently lying on 800 thread count sheets in a fancy hotel in Marseilles, but Danny would know what he meant. Danny always did, it was one of the special beauties of their partnership.

Danny didn’t bring up the possibility of him going straight. They’d had that conversation already in a series of silences and half-spoken phrases, after Danny had gotten out of prison the second time. it was one of the few topics on which the two of them, perpetually in alignment, had agreed to disagree. 

“Linus turned out ok,” Danny said instead. 

“What would you even do with a couple of kids?” Rusty asked, staring up at the ceiling. It was plain white plaster despite the luxury of the rest of the room. People never paid attention to the details above their heads.

“Three.”

“What?”

“Three kids,” Danny said.

“The fuck would you do with three kids?” Rusty repeated sliding further down the couch, candy bag crinkling. He knocked the wine bottle with his foot and it rolled away silently across the carpet. 

“Take them to baseball games?” Danny hazarded. There was a small pause as they both considered that, and then they laughed at the same moment, tinny and distant over the phone line.

They were running a small heist at a museum in Boston, a diversion from married life, and they were on their way out, smooth as butter, when the kid came around the corner and ran into Rusty’s legs. She was around three, three and a half - Rusty was an only child but years in foster care had given him an eye for guessing ages - and had blond curls, a sparkly pink dress, and red, wet eyes. She stared up at him, shocked out of her tears, and he stared back. They were in a deserted service hallway behind the exhibits. 

The clock was ticking - he and Danny had six minutes to get out of the building before the cameras came back online. Linus was already in the getaway car with Virgil and Turk. Danny was clearly disconcerted by the appearance of a tearful unaccompanied child. If he’d had more time, Rusty would have enjoyed the unusual treat of Danny disconcerted. 

Rusty checked his watch and knelt down to be at eye level with her. “You lost?” 

She nodded, thumb in mouth. 

“Let’s get you back to your family, then, huh? Can I pick you up?”

She shook her head and Rusty resisted the urge to look at his watch again. “Ok. We're in a hurry so I need you to walk as fast as you can, can you do that?” A nod. “Will you hold my hand?” A small, damp hand curled around his. “Ok, let's go.” 

“Rus,” Danny said, abrupt, as he took off in the direction of the main museum halls, not their escape route, but then Danny's footsteps were behind him, following unerringly. They weren't about to leave the kid. Danny understood. They'd only gone down one hall before Rusty felt a tug on his hand and looked down to see the girl reaching up to be carried. He scooped her up and they ran. 

“One minute forty-three,” Danny muttered as they skidded through a fire door and into the crowded museum. Rusty ignored him, looking around wildly, fast walking through the exhibit. 

On the other side of a modern art sculpture a blonde woman was looking around frantically and the girl in Rusty’s arms began wiggling to get down. "Mama!"

He let her go and turned, snagging Danny’s elbow and hustling them both in the direction of the emergency exit. Rusty didn’t bother to check that the kid got across the room to her mother safely. She was three, not incompetent. 

The two of them burst out of an alarmed exterior door with 18 seconds until the cameras came back on. The alarms started wailing, and in his earpiece Turk said “What the fuck was that?” but it didn’t matter because the white van was roaring down the alley, doors open, and by the time the police showed up they would be long gone, with no evidence except the blaring alarm and the 2.5 million in miniature paintings missing from the restoration room. 

In the back of the van on 95, their shoulders rocking together with the motion of the road, Danny said, “You’re good with kids.” His eyes were dark and intent, voice low enough that the others couldn’t hear. Intimate. 

Rusty tore open a packet of honey roasted peanuts he’d stashed under the seat earlier, and said nothing.

Danny and Tess had a fight, and Danny spent two nights sleeping on the couch at Rusty’s place in Atlantic City, and three more nights sleeping in his bed, and then he and Tess made up and Danny went back to Connecticut. They didn’t talk about it. They never did. 

In Rome, Danny and Rusty were wandering through a crowded street market when a ragged kid lifted a handful of dollars from a merchant's till box as the merchant haggled in vigorous Italian. It was a clumsy lift and the two of them weren’t the only people who saw. The kid shot away from the ensuing commotion like a fish cutting through water and Rusty was impressed with his sprinting if not his slight of hand. 

“If you had three kids, they would all be like that,” Rusty said, as the commotion died down, the kid vanished into the mess of alleyways. 

Danny looked offended. “They wouldn't. They’d be better.”

After the thing with Isabel fell apart predictably, Rusty drunk dialed Danny. “‘Lo,” Danny said. There was the muted background noise of a restaurant or luncheon, dishes clinking. It was mid-day in America. 

“You're my family,” Rusty slurred. He was lying on hotel carpet, which was the same all over the world, cradling a bottle of expensive vodka. There was still some left, which counted as a win. 

“What’s wrong?” Danny asked, and Rusty heard him get up from a table, the scrape of a chair, other sounds fading as Danny walked away from his life, like he always did when Rusty needed him. 

“Y’asked me once,” he managed, slow and deliberate. “F’I wanted a family. I got one. S’you. ‘N’ Saul ‘n’ Rueben ‘n’ Basher ‘n’ th’others. B’mostly you.” 

“Rusty,” Danny said, so soft and affectionate that Rusty wanted to cry. “Drink some water and go to bed. I’ll call you in twelve hours and if you don’t pick up I’m going to send someone to check on you.”

When Danny called the next day, Rusty picked up because that was the rule, swore at him, and hung up again. Basher showed up that evening anyway, which was fine because Basher was a good rebound and a great friend. They spent the next week fucking and looking at vault schematics, and things mostly went back to normal. 

A couple of months later Danny and Rusty were strolling down the Strip in front of the Bellagio. Danny didn’t ask outright but they ended up talking about it anyway. “She said she liked surprises.” 

The end of his relationship with Isabel sounded stupid when said out loud, but Danny didn’t laugh. “That’s the waters.” 

Rusty crumpled an empty Skittles bag and shoved it into his pocket. “Relationships can be...” 

“Sure.” 

“But they’re also…” 

“That’s right.” 

Rusty fell silent, enjoying the comfort of walking in stride, shoulders bumping. The sun had set, leaving the sky a fading periwinkle. The scorching dry heat of the day was already fading into the desert evening. All around them, the lights of Las Vegas were twinkling like an earth-bound galaxy. 

“I remember when this was the dunes,” Danny said, leaning against the balustrade in front of the Bellagio fountain. “The town’s changed.” 

Later that night, Rusty knelt on the carpet beside the bed in one of Rueben’s guest rooms, head pillowed on Danny’s thigh, mouthing his softening cock. Rusty liked to keep Danny in his mouth after he’d come, the hair on his thighs tickling Rusty’s cheek, until he’d sucked all the bitter taste of come away and could taste Danny’s skin again. Danny’s palm rested warm and heavy on his head, and Rusty rubbed his own hard-on absently through his pants. He stroked his hands over Danny’s hips and up over his stomach. 

Danny made a little noise, and reached down to push his hand away from his abdomen. Rusty looked up questioningly and Danny blushed - actually  _ blushed _ . It was so out of character that Rusty found himself gaping. “What…?” 

Danny squirmed. 

“Seriously?” Rusty asked. “You’re not...” 

“I just…” 

They stared at one another, and then Danny said, “I’ll be fifty next year.” 

“Shut the fuck up,” Rusty growled and leaned down to kiss Danny’s stomach. He was softer around the middle than he had been at twenty two, of course, the wiry hair beginning to turn gray. Rusty dragged his tongue over it, hungry, tasting salt and Danny, feeling his warm flesh jump and wobble as Danny twitched. It was proof that Danny had made it, all those years, when there had been a time Rusty was sure neither of them would live to see thirty. 

Danny yelped as Rusty bit down, leaving pink, fading toothmarks in the tender skin. Rusty trailed down his tummy and pressed little kisses against the crease of Danny’s thigh, the head of his cock leaving sticky smears of come and Rusty’s own spit on Rusty’s cheek as Danny slowly grew hard again. 

Flicking his eyes up, Rusty watched Danny’s face as he sucked a hickey into his soft stomach. Danny was breathing hard, one hand in his hair, half pushing him away, half pulling him closer. His cheeks were ruddy. 

“I want you like this,” Rusty said, hoarse. 

Danny made a small, hurt sound, and hauled him up onto the bed, both of them toppling backward, Rusty on top. 

He leaned down to capture Danny’s mouth, “I want…” he mumbled. 

“I know.”

“Always.” 

“I  _ know _ .” 

They managed to get out of the rest of their clothes and Danny worked three fingers inside Rusty while he panted into Danny’s mouth, straddling his lap. Rusty rode his cock hard, one hand on Danny's stomach, the other on the headboard. He ignored the twinges in his back and thighs reminding him that if Danny was getting old, so was he. 

Afterward, he lay with his head on Danny’s shoulder, eyes closed as Danny’s fingers drifted over his skin, up his arm, across his cheek, through his hair. He felt Danny’s sternum move as he drew breath to speak. 

“If we had kids,” Danny said, soft but conversational, “they'd be amazing grifters.” 

Rusty processed that for a moment. “The best of the best,” he agreed. His mouth quirked up at the corners. “Not sure you're gonna be able to knock me up though.” 

“Maybe I should try again,” Danny whispered, low and filthy in his ear. A shiver went through Rusty even though neither of them were going to be able to get it up again any time soon.

“Kinky,” Rusty said, and pushed himself up on Danny’s chest to kiss him. 

Danny was in a good mood at the airport. Three orgasms in a night tended to do that. He was going back to Tess, for however much longer that lasted - not long now, Rusty thought. Pulling off a big job always made Danny hungry for the next one.

They said goodbye to Linus, who was off to work a job with his dad, and then sat, having half a conversation about another scheme, both of them thinking of other things. The airport air was stale and chilly but Danny’s arm was warm against Rusty's through their clothes. 

They ran out of excuses to sit there and Danny’s flight was about to board. He got to his feet. “So. See you when I see you.” 

“Hey.” Danny paused, turned. The moment stretched, something unspeakable trying to worm its way out of Rusty’s mouth. He caught his tongue between his teeth, and then said, “Next time, try keeping the weight off in between.” 

Danny’s mouth moved, eyes inscrutable behind his shades. For a moment Rusty thought he’d misunderstood, been hurt - that their semi-telepathic connection had failed them. Then he nodded and said, “You oughta settle down. Have a couple of kids.” The corner of his mouth twitched up as he turned away. 

Rusty breathed out, looking down at his own hands, and grinned slowly. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Comments are love! Follow me on tumblr at [ stillwaterseas](http://stillwaterseas.tumblr.com/)  
> Is anyone even around in this fandom anymore?


End file.
